At Santa Monica's Bulletproof Labs, you don't get a trainer. You get a "personal biohacking technician," who provides body composition analysis, G-force workouts, and an unusual cooldown technique.

PCMag dropped by recently to meet General Manager Amanda McVey. She met us in the airy white lobby, surrounded by supernaturally attractive humans with zero body fat and a zeal for the next big thing LA had to offer.

To the left of the lobby is an IV Lounge: yes, intravenous nutrient-based chilling. Slip into a recliner, roll up your sleeves, and relax as a cocktail of nutrients course through your veins. Ahead, in a well-organized compact space, are interesting looking machines, some with screens that display data points on cellular level fitness. The general effect is more astronaut training than your local gym.

"We define Bulletproof as a state of high performance where you take control of and improve your biochemistry, your body, and your mind so they work in unison, helping you execute at levels far beyond what you'd expect," explained McVey. "It used to take a lifetime to radically rewire the human body and mind this way, if you were lucky enough to even know it was possible. Technology has changed the rules."

Bulletproof Labs was started by Dave Asprey, a Silicon Valley investor and entrepreneur who spent two decades and more than $1 million hacking his own biology, from the Canadian forest to Tibetan monasteries. Along the way, he dropped 100 pounds without counting calories or excessive exercise, and claims to have lifted his IQ by 20 points, lowered his biological age, and learned how to sleep more efficiently in less time.

Asprey started the Bulletproof Coffee craze and the Bulletproof Diet, wrote two books, and maintains blog to share his secrets and keep the faithful motivated.

Now Asprey wants to help everyone else get "a human upgrade." Bulletproof Labs opened its first "biohacking facility" in November 2017, and demand has been high. The company is looking for its next locations, perhaps in Seattle where its parent company, Bulletproof Digital, is headquartered.

Originally from Vancouver, McVey has a long history in personal training; she's managed sports and health clubs and run education and training for a global master team. She joined Asprey's startup last year to launch the LA lab.

"I was going from continent to continent, as part of my last job," she said, "and realized that technology was impacting the fitness industry in a really meaningful way through wearables and the quantified self movement. Then I heard Dave's podcast, Bulletproof Radio, and understood that this is where the market is going. I live in this neighborhood, saw the sign for the Bulletproof Labs go up, came by, and got hired.

"We've been overwhelmed by the demand from day one, from both locals and Hollywood celebrities alike. Gerard Butler was here the other day and said he just wanted to look around, but ended up staying for hours and trying out everything."

I did not partake, but clients usually get a Bulletproof body composition analysis to set a baseline, and keep up with progress on their phone. McVey's next task is upgrading the app, as right now it's taking point of sale data and mostly just tracks numbers. Costs start at $50 for a consultation, then go up to $100 to $150 per hour. "About the same as working with a top LA trainer," McVey pointed out.

She handed me off to Matt Reed, a personal biohacking technician, for a tour. He looked doubtfully at my outfit; clearly I wasn't dressed to work out, so I explained I just wanted to understand the sci-tech behind the biohacking theory.

He showed me a range of machines, like the truly scary "Upgraded Cryotherapy," which dares you to spend three minutes in a minus 250 degree chamber. In return, "you'll receive an elevated hormonal response to boost dopamine levels and endorphins, bringing more blood flows to the brain, allowing for the production of brain derived neurotrophic factor, (BDNF) which helps protect neurons as well as assists in the creation of new neuronal connections," Reed said.

People I know who have done it say it's exhilarating. I'll take their word for it.

Then there's "The Cheat Machine," a workout hack with adaptive resistance technology that promises a week's worth of weightlifting in under 15 minutes to build strength and endurance.

"Cold Hiit" did not look pleasant, but Reed assured me it's effective. The device combines compression and cooling technology, and essentially forces the body to work really hard to overcome the cold and resistance. Everyone using it looked super fit, so clearly it works?

Another one that looked cool was "The Vibe," which Reed said is "a whole workout in just minutes as G-forces penetrate every muscle fiber in your body to vibrate it at 30 times per second."

I appreciated the whole body aspect of the approach. Both McVey and Reed stressed this is about health at the cellular level, not about the numbers on the scale.

Then I spotted the Virtual Float Tank and couldn't unlace my Doctor Martens quick enough. It looked like traveling in a space capsule to Mars, suspended in cryo-somnolent splendor.

My guide to the future helped me lie down and get into position, placing some light emitting glasses over my eyes (more on that in a moment) and headphones that pumped out soothing spa music and weirdly discordant binaural beats. The latter is for brain entrainment purposes to help focus. The brain tries to reorder the left and right hemispheres by processing the audio into something comprehensible.

Once satisfied I was ready to go under, Reed told me to bang on the inside of the machine if I needed to get out. I did a thumbs up from within my occluded visual and aural state and gave a brave smile as the lid moved slowly down; I was encased inside the pod.

If you went clubbing during the rave era, you'll know what the Virtual Float Tank is like. Safe to say, it was a very pleasurable trip into the outer regions of the galaxy as the pod moved smoothly on its robotic arm axis.

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My brain dropped into a theta-wave-state, and I enjoyed my own personal night's sky lit up by a synthetically generated Aurora Borealis. The most amazing thing? Reed showed me later that the only light pulsing through the eyepiece was white, on the right eye, and patterns, again not colored, on the left. My brain refracted the whole thing into a rainbow hue with bursting pops of visual beauty.

When the session came to an end, and Reed opened the lid, I remained smiling in a supine position for a few moments. As I climbed out of the egg-like pod, I had to restrain myself from pretending to be Mork greeting Orson. Human upgrading? Sign me up.

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